


Poltergeist

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Light Angst, M/M, Poltergeists, Spirits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23327599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: The afterlife was not something Geoffrey considered as something to ponder. He had far too many other concerns with the Leech pandemic and the shortages brought about with the war that were strangling the common folk far less fortunate in their funds. Priwen hadn't escaped these struggles and the last thing he needed clogging up his daily routine is the realization that the former leader of Priwen, Carl Eldritch, was currently haunting him.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a random idea that came about when discussing ghost stories in the Vampyr server Pembroke Hospital. And it was a fun idea I wanted to write. I finally got around to working on it. 
> 
> (Updates may vary as I'm slowly getting back into the habit of working on fanfic again after a break.)

"O'Connor!" The Leader of Priwen was displeased to say the least. His voice rose through the halls as he summoned his second in command to his office. The whole building seemed to tremble at the baritone of the Irishman as it reverberated. He stood by his desk, arms folded with a world record scowl heavily set in his face. His hair was disheveled, appearing as if he'd just rolled out of bed long enough to witness the offense.

As the larger Irishman entered the office, his bulk and size barely fit through the door as he bowed his head to greet his superior. His soft blue grey eyes took in the storm that had raged within. The office was a mess. Papers and books had been launched and scattered, drawers left half open and pens left on the surface leaking ink everywhere, ruining reports and files and the leather of Geoffrey's favorite chair. Any attempts to salvage would be futile at this point. The damage looked to be hours old.

His gaze lifted to meet his superior's whose rage was carefully concealed behind tightly wound muscle and years of discipline. The tension in his jaw was hard to miss as he gave the second an expectant look. There was nothing to be said. There were very few who could be responsible for such a state, and even fewer who are capable of doing that while the Hunter slept only a few feet away in his cot. No man or animal is sly enough to do so, and no leech could enter the office without Geoffrey's express permission given it was his living space as well.

"I want to know who is responsible for this, now." Geoffrey pressed firmly, straightening up to full height. The threatening manner lost some of its heat when the Hunter himself only came up to O'Connor's chest. But the second in command knew the Priwen leader was skilled enough that size didn't matter. Be it man or Vulkod.

"I'm afraid I can't help with that sir but I can offer a hand to clean up if you want." O'Connor answered smoothly, a sympathetic look settling on his features as he inspected the heat in the other's expression.

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes at the larger man, considered his options then clicked his tongue in dismissal. "Bollocks." He hissed. "Get some feckin rags then O'Connor."

The initial clean up took hours, gathering up papers and books, rearranging them and trying to salvage the reports that had been ruined. They scrubbed and scrubbed to get the ink stains out of the leather chair and off the surface of the desk until their hands ached from the effort and the rags were completely black. When the office was finally put back together, Geoffrey slumped into his desk chair with a lip curled up in a quiet sneer. He inspected the room closely, dark blue eyes drinking in the unease that had settled in the air. Something about it made him itchy, a prickling sensation he couldn’t quite scratch and relieve himself of that went beyond the surface. His instincts told him it was something more than just clever cadets playing pranks on him and his suspicions landed on O’Connor, seeking answers.

O’Connor’s attention shifted around the room in a slow inspection, lingering just over Geoffrey’s shoulder before it fell to meet the hunter’s gaze. He offered an apologetic smile to the man but was met with a stern look that demanded an explanation.

“Something tells me you know more than you’re letting on, O’Connor.” Geoffrey plied slowly, a dangerous lilt to his tone.

“With all due respect sir, I would like to assure you that whatever the cause of this was, it was not with malicious intent.” O’Connor answered calmly, that disarming smile trying to worm its way through the sturdy walls Geoffrey put up around himself since he woke up in a foul mood this morning.

“Malicious intent? You make it sound like some far flung specter O’Connor.” Geoffrey prodded.

O’Connor nodded curtly. “You’re not far off the mark, sir.”

“Spit it out.” He barked. “Stop with all these infuriating games O’Connor.”

O’Connor shifted his bulk with an unsettled expression, the only sign to break through his careful mask. It unnerved Geoffrey as he watched the hunter lower himself to the adjacent chair and sighed. “It’s not exactly easy to explain sir. But you must keep an open mind about these things.”

“Speak! Before I lose what little patience I have today.”

“Priwen is not just home to living inhabitants McCullum. And I don’t mean leeches and the like.” O’Connor spoke frankly, inspecting the hunter’s expression before continuing.

Geoffrey’s amusement was entirely absent as he narrowed a hardened gaze upon the other man. “This is some game-”

“I assure you I am an honest man McCullum. In all the years I’ve served you, I have never manifested a lie in your presence.” He corrected. 

"Alright then." Geoffrey challenged. His jaw crooked to the side thoughtfully. "Prove it. If what you say is true, then show me."

O'Connor sighed, giving a small shake of his head as he stood up from his seat. His gaze lifted to settle behind Geoffrey, trailing some invisible specter before turning sharply and walking towards the bookshelf against the wall. Without hesitation, he went straight for a dark red book, leather bound and old. The pages were yellowed with time and the text nearly unreadable from wear as he flipped the book open and went to a specific page. Inside was a carefully concealed sketch of a family, a husband and wife with two young boys sitting in front of them. The smiles on their faces were warm and familiar to the hunter. On the back of the sketch it was titled and dated. 

_ The McCullum family _

The writing was feminine and hard to read from age, the edges were crinkled and folded over. There were creases down the middle of the page where it had been tucked away secretly for a long time only to be spread out and flattened between the pages of an old book. O'Connor turned to face Geoffrey, the man's eyes wide with disbelief then replaced by rage as he stood abruptly, hands pounding the desk as he snarled. 

"Who told you that was there?" He demanded. The anger was a splash of cold water down O'Connor's back, a whip cracking in the air as fury rivaled shame within the fragile vessel of his Leader. He remained calm as he closed the book and brought it back to the desk to lay it carefully before his superior. 

"Carl Eldritch told me." He gestured behind Geoffrey. "The day you stepped up and took his place as the head of Priwen, you kissed the photo and made a promise to your family."

Geoffrey recoiled away from O'Connor, disgust curling in his expression before he quickly dismissed it to something hard and detached. O'Connor understood what the Priwen leader was feeling. He offered a sympathetic smile and took a step back to give him space. He watched as the hunter collected the book into his hands and inspected it for signs of damage. 

Geoffrey's touch was tender and mindful of the worn fabric. The book itself was more than just a container for his hidden treasures but a memory from his childhood. A collection of stories his mother had read to him and Ian over and over again when they were small and the world wasn't so frightening.

Silence drew between them, a tightly wound thread of tension. Neither man moved or spoke, fearing it would snap and unleash an unforetold consequence. With a heavy breath, Geoffrey forced the words to pass his lips, quiet and uncertain. "Carl is here?"

"In a sense, yes." O'Connor was careful in his words. "He has yet to move on from this world and has been watching over you and Priwen since his passing."

"Stubborn bastard." Geoffrey scoffed under his breath and shook his head. His attention shifted from the worn red book towards the empty space beside him that felt a fraction cooler than the air around him. A shiver raced down his spine with unease at the thought that Carl had been watching him all these years. Most men would find comfort in knowing their mentors were close by even in death. Geoffrey only felt shame and a vengeful insecurity that gripped him like an icy fist in his chest. His gaze dropped as he drew away, silence heavy between him and his subordinate.

There were so many questions he wished to ask, but so few that he was actually willing to hear the answers to. He drew in an uncertain breath, inspected the dark stains that tarnished his favorite chair and the old hand me down desk. It was covered in knicks, dings and scratches from the wear and tear of years used.

He recalled the faint apparition of his memories, of Carl hunched over it late into the afternoons, working diligently to finish reports or writing furiously into his private journal to record the night's events in vivid detail. Every new discovery and every failure involving the Leech menace.

Those memories were only shadows now, plaguing Geoffrey's nights and stealing what small peace he could reclaim in the wee hours before sleep swept him away into a void of endless dreams.

It was no small secret that Geoffrey rebuilt Priwen and revived it to a semblance of its former glory when Kendall Stone oversaw it. He pioneered new equipment, tactics and hunting protocols. He coordinated far more efficient patrols, with carefully structured units and hand picked lieutenants to carry out each task. He cut through Ascalon's numbers with quick succession and carried out the second greatest hunt in the existence of the organization with the numbers of Leech deaths rivaling its predecessors.

And above all else, and possibly the worst of his offenses aside from straying so far from Carl's teachings, was his tolerance and favoritism for one specific leech.

Shying away from the previous commandments of the institution Carl built was one thing, Geoffrey improved upon his predecessors and changed with the world around them. He made advances to keep up with the needs at the time. But his fondness for Dr. Reid? How he went out of his way every single time for the leech doctor, sacrificing his duties and his time just to salvage another hour, another minute with the man-  _ monster. _

Maybe once upon a time, Geoffrey would have proudly stood before his mentor and pleaded for his approval. But now, he could only feel the burn of hot shame and the sickly purge of guilt churning up his stomach and threatening to make him waver in his stance.

He lifted his gaze and disregarded what little honor may have remained.

"Leave me be. Both of you." He ordered. His words were absolute and Geoffrey could tell by the brief flash of confusion on his subordinate's face when he glanced towards his side, that Carl had heard him and was aware of his demand. He felt the shiver of air ghost across his skin and the unease that settled in his stomach only made itself more noticeable by the sudden flop. He felt like he was going to be sick but he held himself together. His expression schooled into a state of unquestionable calm as he waited for O'Connor to leave.

He needed to go somewhere as well. Someplace far from prying eyes and unseen specters. A bit of fresh air would do him wonders to clear his head.

With his goal set in mind, he changed into something somewhat respectable, donned his jacket and tucked his scarf around his neck, before heading out into the brisk evening air. The fresh crisp chill was a welcome relief as he slipped into the back alleys of Whitechapel and made a very hasty escape out of the district towards somewhere more familiar and less cluttered with Priwen patrols.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates for this will be slow as I'm going to be bouncing between a couple different fics and projects at the same time.

"McCullum?" Jonathan spoke, breaking the quiet night air as he stepped upon the balcony of his office. The soft tap of his shoes on the worn wood was an echo in the dim little room, a scuff of movement barely acknowledged as his soft blue-gray eyes drank in the disheveled appearance of the hunter, perched on the edge of his bed.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" His voice was teasing yet curious. It wasn't everyday the leader of Priwen showed up on his doorstep. And never had he waited for Jonathan to return from his rounds. Dawn was creeping in slowly, a foreboding presence on the velvet horizon overlooking the city. The distant cries of Skal were a fading thought in the doctor's mind, the faintest traces of their scent after a few wayward run-ins were nothing more than a wisp of fog in the morning light. It too would dissipate when the sun rose and that primal exhaustion claimed him.

Jonathan slowly peeled off his gloves, stuffing them into his front pocket before he began removing his scarf and jacket to hang on the coat rack next to the balcony. It offered a prime opportunity for Geoffrey to answer. Or to snipe a few barbed jests his direction. He was just rolling his sleeves up to his elbow when he noticed nothing entailed the now rather awkward silence.

Only when their eyes met did the hunter break the spell of whatever trance took hold of him.

"Reid." He greeted as if just now registering the Ekon's presence. His brows furrowed in confusion, fists balled tightly in his lap as they strained against whatever indecision stole all of his wits.

"Is something the matter? You look... _lost._ " It wasn't quite the right word to describe the heavy melancholy that stole Geoffrey's typical enthusiasm and boisterous attitude. He lacked the graceful confidence that usually seeped out of him like a wet submerged sponge as he swaggered across any expanse of terrain with the devilish prowess of a true apex predator. Something Jonathan had grown rather fond of if he did say so himself.

For now, all of that was disturbingly absent and left the good doctor deeply concerned. Dismissing the bone deep ache of weariness, he carefully approached his bed with a raised brow and an inviting posture that requested the hunter open up to him.

It was a long silence before Geoffrey finally spoke with some conflict laid heavily in his words. As if he found trouble forming the right way to ask such a simple question.

"Do you believe in life after death?"

Jonathan stopped, considered the thought then gestured at himself as if that were answer enough. 

"I don't mean-" Geoffrey cut himself off before he could finish, worked the words around carefully in his mouth again before proceeding. "Ghosts. Spirits. Whatever you wish to call them. Do you think they could still walk among us?"

_Ah._ That wasn't what he was expecting to hear.

"Were you to ask me this years ago, I may have laughed in your face." Jonathan folded his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the wall adjacent his bed. His cool gaze leveled on Geoffrey as he appraised the distress these thoughts put him in. The sudden influx in his pulse, the subtle hint of sweat turned pungent from stress as he rolled it over and over again in his mind. The faintest hint of whiskey just under the surface from a few cautious pulls from the flask in his coat.

"But seeing as I am still here and not in a mass grave, I doubt I have any ground to stand on in saying there is no afterlife." He considered it thoughtfully. Once upon a time, heaven sounded like a nice idea as an end goal in this life. His mother had praised it, _believed_ in it, and it would be foolish of him to even try to dissuade her of those beliefs. It was all she had anymore and now, he stood on the other side of _life_ and peered in at the world he no longer felt welcome in and couldn't rightfully deny any of that anymore.

Life and Death were a gray no man's land with opposing sides fighting for an ideal neither were certain of anymore. It was a foggy wasteland of mystery that both feared to tread but still wished to lay claim to in some small manner if only out of spite and that incessant need to _know_ what the other side cannot. Be it human or Vampire. Or, in this case, ghosts.

"I've heard more than my fair share of ghost stories between the hospitals and the battlefield. I once thought it nothing more than stress related superstitions and prolonged exhaustion induced hallucinations." He gestured towards his surroundings with a weary sigh. "I guess now I can retract those views and reassess my stance on the topic. But, why do you ask?"

"I believe….well, it's going to sound crazy." Geoffrey sighed, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he hung his head. His fists wound tighter, knuckles bleached white as he decided what to say.

"Go on. I've no judgement to give on the topic, McCullum. If it helps to speak on it, then feel free to do so. I've a willing ear to lend."

"I think that the man who raised me is haunting me. _Has been_ haunting me. Since his death." He scrubbed his hands over his face with a heavy groan, dismissing just how preposterous this sounded out loud. He waited for the scathing ridicule. For Reid to bust out the straightjacket and consider locking him up with the rest of the loons downstairs. Pembroke didn't have a proper psychiatric ward but it was working it's way up to it with Swansea gone and Reid garnering more freedom in implementing new and updated medical practices.

"What makes you say that?" Okay, not the question he dreaded but Geoffrey could work with that. He tore his eyes away from the floor and met Jonathan's studious gaze for the first time since he walked in.

"O'Connor is odd as far as Priwen is concerned. Most of the men think he's one of the last generations of druids still wandering the land. No matter what they _think_ he is, he admitted to seeing and speaking with Carl in his death." He waved a hand in the air, a small dismissive gesture, somewhat self conscious in the motion when he caught himself. Geoffrey cleared his throat and lowered his voice as if he were divulging some dark secret.

"I asked him to prove it and he did so in a way no man could get away with. He knows things that I never told another soul. Things that only Carl would know after his death."

"If I may ask, what has he been saying?" Jonathan inquired after a moment of thought. "I don't mean to pry, but you seem greatly distressed by this turn of events."

"It's more of what he hasn't said yet that's got me riled." Geoffrey corrected, giving a fitful shake of his head as he shrugged.

The quiet befell him once more as they waited in silence for the hunter to work through what he wanted to say. What few details he was comfortable enough with parting to Jonathan. Their relationship had vastly improved over time, which caused both sides to massively benefit in the long run. But that didn't mean Jonathan was privy to every detail of Geoffrey's life. Their own private relationship even had certain restrictions both had to adhere to. Which, turns out, were easy enough and ran along the lines of business does not cross with pleasure. The politics of their work lives stay outside the bedroom and bygones shall be bygones.

The only exceptions were the occasional snipes and heated teasing that were an inevitable fact of their own personalities and what little pleasures they derived from it in the stressors of their days.

Jonathan adjusted his tactic as he approached the bed and took a cautious seat beside Geoffrey. A weary sigh slipping from his throat, a sound of air he didn't need rushing out from sheer habit at this point. "Would you rather I offer you a distraction instead? Clear your head before attempting to unravel all of these problems you've found yourself harboring. It could be beneficial in finding the solution to your conundrum."

"Aye, I guess." He sounded defeated as his shoulders slumped heavily, wound tight with tension he couldn't let go. "It couldn't hurt." It was an honest enough admittance that invited the Ekon closer until they were brushing elbows.

Jonathan had a comment on that topic but decided given the temperature of the room, he would hold off on it for a far more kindred situation. One that didn't feel like it was balancing on a knife edge of comradery. Geoffrey was oftentimes a rather agreeable gentleman, but when he was riled up like this, he could be as fickle and temperamental as a cat and just as hard to wrangle into some semblance of civility. 


End file.
